


undisclosed desires

by cordsycords



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Feels, Fluff, M/M, Pining, all the idiots falling in love and not knowing that the other is in love with them, all the one-sidedness, all the pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-04-24 17:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14360535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordsycords/pseuds/cordsycords
Summary: Here's the problem with Mollymauk, when left to his own devices.He pines.Or how Molly and Caleb fall in love, but are too stupid to figure out what the other is feeling.





	1. Chapter 1

Here’s the problem with Mollymauk, when left to his own devices.

He pines.

He doesn’t know when it begins; when he crosses the line from plain old attraction to romantic inclination. Because there is a line, hard and cold drawn in the sand, between the two. One which has never been crossed before, given how little experience he has, which is still quite a lot considering his personal circumstances, but not very much in the grand scheme of things. At first, he doesn’t understand it, the emotions that seem new and all-too-familiar all at the same time. The gap between platonic and romantic small, yet large enough that a good running start is required to leap over it.

In the two years since his rebirth, he was very aware that he was attracted to many different types of people. Sex and everything to do with it came very easy to him after his initial trauma from digging himself from his own grave. It was something he did with everyone he met, from Yasha and everyone else at the circus to each of his current companions as well. A little game he played, to see how many people he’d shag, racking up the numbers in his head to some vague amusement

Jester. Fjord. Caleb. Yasha. Nott. Beau. 

Yes. Probably. Definitely. Maybe. No. Not a chance in hell.

Sex is easy when it all comes down to it. It starts in mutual attraction, ends in mutual satisfaction, and when done right, and both parties agree, there’s no need to move on from there.

And then there’s Caleb Widogast, who is a problem, to say the very least.

It’s like being pushed into a frozen stream when he finally realizes it. He likes to make people smile, it’s just part of who he is. Seeing Jester’s bright and sunny grin has been one of the highlights of his day since they had met. But Caleb doesn’t really smile, not as obviously as Jester does at the very least. It’s not in his mouth or cheeks where he displays his joy, it’s in his eyes. They begin to twinkle, like Molly images what the ocean looks like on a very sunny day. He captures those moments as well as he can, hordes them with as much possessiveness as Nott when it comes to her more valuable possessions.

He likes it when Caleb is happy. He likes it even more when _he_ makes Caleb happy.

It feels wrong at first. Caleb is not his by any means, but he doesn’t know how to properly describe his feelings by any other word except _greedy_ for the other man’s happiness, attention, affection.

It’s not just physical, he realizes. Because physical is easy for him. He’d never been a hormonal teenager, doesn’t know that that’s even a thing, but with the way his mind works the metaphor is a good one. It’s easy to imagine what one looks like when they’re naked, the sounds they make during sex, the expression on their faces when they come. Except with Caleb, he’s moved past that. Way past that. He’s so far gone that the idea of sex with Caleb doesn’t even matter anymore.

And fuck, isn’t that a little strange.

LIke any personal quandary that he finds impassible, he goes to Yasha with her calm demeanour and her non-judgmental eyes. He would never describe her as beyond her years, but she definitely knows more about the world than he does, so that makes her advice more valuable than anything else he could come up with.

They sit around the campfire late one night, whispering to each other as the others sleep around them. Yasha puts an arm around his shoulders, curls him into her side under her cloak and doesn’t complain when he turns his head to rest the side of his horn against her chest. Her heartbeat is slow and strong against the skin of his cheek. At times like this, he forgets how prone she is to anger.

“Mollymauk, have you ever been in love before?” She asks.

He looks up at her, slightly taken aback, “Well I love you, of course. And Jester, and Nott, and the entire lot of them. The old family. That’s no surprise to me.”

“No. Not that. It’s something more. Y’know when you-- No, it’s just-- how do I explain this,” she asks herself, staring down into her lap, “There’s your family, yeah? And you love them because they raised you and took care of you. And there’s your friends, and you love them because you travel with them, and they make you happy, and you want them to be happy in turn. And then there’s something… more.”

“Well that’s bloody fuckin’ confusing.”

She chuckles, a low grating sound that echoes through her chest. It’s comforting, at least, “Isn’t everything with you?”

“True enough, friend.”

Yasha’s words, while not providing any comfort, do give him the unexpected gift of perspective. And it’s the perspective he needs to figure things out in time.

One night before bed, when they're resting up in a tavern instead of the open road, he knocks on the girl’s room door. Jester is the one to open it, pillow in her hands, raised to hit someone before she realizes its Molly standing there, “Oh, Molly. Have you come to join the pillow fight too?”

He chuckles, “No dear, just came to ask if I could borrow a book or two?”

She smiles, leaning in closer to him as she looks up through her lashes into his eyes, “Do you want the porn?”

He leans down to her, “I wouldn’t say no.”

She giggles and turns back into the room, closing the door behind her. She returns under a minute later, two books in her arms which she eagerly hands over, “There’s Tusk Love and I even stole Courting of the Crick from Beau. You should read that one first, she won’t like it if you steal shit from her. I like Tusk Love better, though, Oskar is so handsome,” she pretends to swoon, placing the back of her hand against her forehead, “Have fun with the porn, Molly!”

He blinks as she slams the door behind her, no regard towards the other people staying at the inn or the incredibly late time of night.

Back in his room, he lights a small candle, sits up against the headboard of his bed, and reads. It’s not a pastime he’s incredibly enamoured with. The ability to read and write came back naturally to him after a couple of months, but he wasn’t necessarily good at it, and he never found that he needed to be to be good at his job. 

The Courting of the Crick is difficult to read through, requiring several days of reading before sleep after receiving it. It’s written in ridiculous, almost flowery prose, with so much descriptive weight put on the historical sequence of events that he’s forced to skip through many of the opening chapters to get to what he’s looking for. In the end, the romance between the Wildemount general and the Xhorhasian assassin is bittersweet and less than satisfying. It’s a mere backdrop to the historical content, and it doesn’t appear to be exactly what he’s looking for. It’s not a healthy relationship, to say the least, many of their interactions with each other have an underlying tension that is more violent than sexual. The smut itself, while appreciated between the long-winded explanations of definitions and events, was not given nearly as much time or attention than the rest of the book.

He finally moves on to Tusk Love a week later, giving up on the other book a few chapters before he was even finished it. The first chapter in, he can already tell why Jester loves Tusk Love, main characters with vague similarities to his roommate notwithstanding. The writing is cheesy, to say the very least. It’s sappy and corny and a little over the top at times, but it’s exactly what Molly was looking for. He spends the night with the book open on his lap, hunched over its pages until his candle burns out and his lower back begins to ache. He finds himself to fit inside either of the character’s shoes as they lust after one another, as the physical attraction turns into something more on both sides of the equation, yet neither of them wants to admit it in fear of getting hurt or the termination of the relationship. It does almost end, right in the final chapters of the book, but it’s resolved by the final page and, as Jester said, Oskar carries the merchant’s daughter Angela across a field, escaping the overbearing oppression of her parent’s desires and the racial discrimination of the Empire to go live out a life on the Menagerie Coast, happy and together.

It’s a little on the nose. 

He returns the books to Jester the next day. She lifts her eyebrow at him when he does, no doubt wondering whether he got off to them or not because that’s just how her mind works. He spins a tale she enjoys, and leaves her to her thoughts, no matter how explicit and untrue they may be.

He spends the next night alone down in the bar. Yasha has disappeared for a spell, making alcohol his second-best confidant for his wayward thoughts. He hasn’t done this in a long time since joining up with the others, hasn’t really needed to since they all know what he’s put behind him. It’s all out in the open, no need to sit and stew when any of them are able to lend a good ear whenever he requires one. But this is a little too close to the chest for that. It needs a delicate touch.

“You okay, Molly?” Fjord asks as he sits down on the other side of the table, scaring Molly from staring into his drink.

“Oh, yes. Hello.”

“Hi.”

“What’re you doing down here?”

“Saw you weren’t up in the room, and it’s getting late. You’ve been pretty into your reading there the past couple weeks.”

“Well, I’m done now.”

“Oh… did you like them?”

Molly smirks and leans in, “D’you really want to ask that?”

“No. I’m just a little… concerned seeing how you’re down here. All alone. Gettin’ drunk.”

Molly leans back in his chair, chugging the last bits of his ale before waving to the bartender to serve him a new one, “I’ve been going over a little predicament of mine, I find booze to be a very good conversationalist in lieu of friends who run off at very unfortunate times.”

“Well, maybe I can help with it,” Fjord shrugs his shoulders.

Molly look towards him, tapping his fingers on the wood of the table before he makes his decision, “Have you ever found yourself in love with someone else?”

Fjord looks slightly taken aback, “No. Never. You?”

Molly gestures to himself, “Two years old, remember? Not much time to form attachments to people., much less anything so… time-consuming.” He plays it off well, he thinks to himself as he tries to sound as nonchalant as possible. 

“Right. So why’re you so chewed up by this?”

He takes another drink, “Not chewed up, just inquisitive I guess. As is my nature, being the youngest one here and all. Everything’s new. Everything sounds strange until you’re given time to mull it over.”

“All right. Just don’t go drinking yourself into a stupor over this, we’re back on the road tomorrow,” Fjord said as he got up from his chair, clapping a hand on Molly’s shoulder before heading upstairs. Molly sighs, taking another sip of his drink with no intention to stop.

Because it’s Love now, capitalised-for-effect Love. He’s pretty sure of it. It’s a little strange to him, almost borderline obsessive, but beginning to calm down once he’s realized what it means. Perhaps he wants to make Caleb happy. Perhaps he wants to protect him, make sure no harm is done. Perhaps he wants to help Caleb after his attacks, comfort him when he cries. Perhaps he wants to hold him in bed at night and whisper sweet nothings into his ear.

But Caleb doesn’t know that. Caleb never has to know that. He’s made no inclination towards a romantic partner, and Molly is just fine with that. Or so he tells himself and his tankard of ale, whispering into it as he falls asleep with his head on the table in front of him.

No one needs to know.


	2. Chapter 2

Here’s the problem with Caleb, when left to his own devices.

He’s as dense to romance as a fucking brick wall, and completely clueless about the fact as well.

It’s a problem that could make any sort of admirer ( _ahem_ ) quite frustrated, confused, or scared enough to admit their feelings that any potential relationship is scattered to the wind and Caleb is none the wiser.

For Caleb, it’s less of a drop into freezing water, and more like being slowly boiled alive: if you stay in a tub of hot water as it slowly heats up, you’ll eventually die without realizing it before it’s too late. You get used to the heat until it’s the thing that kills you. Or, perhaps more apropos to this situation, you fall in love with a man until he’s the one that dies for you.

Mollymauk is a lot, to say the very least. He’s a mosaic of colour, obnoxiousness, and charm wrapped in a silk robe. At first, it’s overwhelming to be in the same room with him, bright and loud and unwilling to temper his personality for the comfort of others. Caleb can respect it just as much as he can find it uncomfortable. Some days, Molly is very much what Caleb wishes he could be if his anxiety and awkward demeanour didn’t prevent him from getting there. But now he’s seen Molly, knows exactly what is behind that bright exterior. And nothing about Molly has changed, per se, but Caleb’s perspective on him certainly has. It’s enough to make him want to learn more about him, other than what he blatantly shows to the rest of the world through his appearance.

Caleb’s still not a talker. He’s not inquisitive like Beau, who’ll ask question upon question to get the information she desires, no matter how personal or prodding it may be. So instead of asking, he watches and he catalogues all the information he gathers for a later date, to be mulled and mused over until he understands just what makes Mollymauk Tealeaf tick.

It’s easy when they’re all together at a tavern, sipping on ale and whiskey bought with well-earned gold. He sits across the table from Molly and Jester, who started out very in-tune with the other and eventually became quite inseparable. Their chairs are as close to the other as they can get, Molly’s arm casually slung over the back of Jester’s chair as she chatters his ear off. It’s endearing to watch Molly listen to Jester, he hangs off her every word, nods and replies in all the right places. And, as far as Caleb can tell, he’s not doing it to humour her, or to distract her from bothering the others. Molly is genuinely interested in what she has to say, and he reacts in the proper way so that she’ll talk to him more.

He interacts with Yasha in the same way, whenever she’s there that is. He listens and reacts and replies with what appears to be their own little way of communicating with each other, a language consisting of hand movements with very few words passing between them. 

And then at one point, Caleb recognizes that Molly did the same with himself as well. He thinks it to be quite odd at first, especially considering Molly knows just exactly how to make Caleb uncomfortable when it comes to human interaction. Then again, perhaps that was why when Caleb and Molly were sharing a night watch one evening Molly sat on the opposite side of the fire instead of next to Caleb, and kept his eyes on the fire the entire time, and didn’t interrupt Caleb when he rambled, and only talked in a quiet voice with a rhythmic quality to his tone that Caleb enjoyed.

It was nice. It could have almost been considered pleasant. He thanked Molly for the company afterwards, and the tiefling replied with a grin and a nod before walking off to where Yasha had set up her bedroll. Caleb watched in the dim light of the fire as he nudged her with his foot and she rolled over, perfect for Molly to curl into her side.

Caleb imagines that Molly is very warm to the touch, and ergo very nice to sleep with on a night such as this when the end of autumn air bites at any patch of skin not covered up. He thinks it would be lovely to curl up with someone on a night like tonight, share the warmth that two bodies create, hear the heartbeat of his partner as he rests his cheek on their chest, feel the breath in their lungs. In the next second, the thought dissipates. He nudges Jester awake and goes to his bedroll, lying down for the night.

And afterwards, perhaps he is more amenable to Mollymauk Tealeaf’s presence. Perhaps he enjoys it when Molly comes shopping with him, or when they walk side-by-side during their adventures into dangerous places. Perhaps, every once in a while, he stays up later than normal some nights, talking to Mollymauk over a couple of drinks at a tavern or a campfire slowly burning in the moonlight. All in the name of recreating that one night.

He doesn’t see the romance in these actions, doesn’t see how they might be affecting his pining friend, who treats each interaction with him as something precious and sweet.

One night, months after Fjord and Molly’s surreptitious conversation in a tavern, he hears a knock on his door. And it is his door, not his and Nott’s, because Nott is off with the girls for a night. He doesn’t fault her for it, she needs her friends as much as he needs his, and sometimes they need some time apart.

He opens the door to see Molly, still completely dressed and maybe a little drunk, looking quite dejected out in the hallway all by himself.

“Yes, Mollymauk?”

“You need to help me, Caleb,” Molly pleads.

“Uh, sure. What seems to be the problem?”

Molly leans in closer, looking to either side of him, “Jester is in my room. With Fjord.”

“So?”

“So you need to let me sleep here tonight.”

“Why?”

Molly lifts his eyebrow, “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You couldn’t tell?”

“Tell what?”

“She wants to climb him like a tree.”

“Oh.”

“Bang him like a door in a hurricane.”

“I get the picture, yes. Though that doesn’t mean that’s what-”

“Yes, Caleb, they are. The fuckers. Not in love, my purple ass.”

“Oh. So, come in, then?”

“Gods bless you.”

To be clear, after Molly walks in and Caleb closes the door behind him, the air in the room turns awkward for exactly one (1) person. That person is not Caleb, who has just done a good deed for his friend because he was kicked out of his own room due to the now-sexual relations of their two party members. Molly sets himself up on the floor automatically, doffing his cloak and scimitars to begin his nightly ritual. Caleb’s never paid attention to it before but finds himself unable to look away. Molly wraps his swords within the silk of his robe with careful attention, then places them in front of his knelt form. His hands play with the charm around his neck as he bows his head. Caleb can’t hear his quiet mumbles, but he watches as Molly’s lips move over practiced words with ease. He’s entranced until Molly bows, pressing his forehead to the swords for a second before he gets back up to his knees, looking toward Caleb.

“You wouldn’t mind sharing a pillow for the guy on the floor?”

“Oh, well I guess. You could also just… sleep up here.”

“Huh?”

“The bed’s big enough. And you got kicked out of yours.”

“Caleb, I-”

“I just thought I’d offer. I would not want to force a friend to sleep on the floor.”

“Um, sure, I guess.”

Caleb moves over to the other half of the bed, making room for Molly to slide in next to him. Molly grabs the pillow that is to be his and pulls it close to his body.

“I was going to do some reading if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine.”

“All right. Good night, then.”

“G’night,” Molly replies, curling his face into the pillow.

Caleb goes back to his reading, slowly embroiling himself with the words on the pages. At the back of his mind, he can feel the slight aura of heat coming from the body next to him, the tremor through the mattress with every breath that Mollymauk takes. It doesn’t distract him, instead adding a small soundtrack of tiny sensations to his periphery.

It’s not a problem until all of the sudden the mattress shakes, and Caleb looks towards Molly to see his entire body has gone tense. His hold around the pillow has gone tight, and there’s a furrow in his brow where his closed eyes have suddenly clenched shut. He looks to be in pain, and Caleb can relate.

“Mollymauk,” he calls out. Molly doesn’t wake, doesn’t even move.

With a hesitant finger, Caleb’s hand goes to poke Molly in the shoulder. Once again, no response.

He doesn’t know what to do, Molly seems to be cut off from all sensation in his nightmare. He thrashes against the bed, a gasp wracking his body with tremors. Caleb flinches. He doesn’t know what to do, can’t think of a way to properly help.

He reaches out with his hand once more, resting it on the back of Molly’s neck, thinking if he can’t wake him up, then he can at least provide some sort of comfort. Molly’s skin is quite warm, and rough due to the scars that crisscross along it. He can feel the tension that Molly holds there and finds himself absentmindedly rubbing his thumb back and forth in a small soothing gesture.

He’s not Jester, his touch doesn’t heal and wash away any hurt, but perhaps Molly knows he’s not alone now. Perhaps he feels stronger, in whatever nightmare he faces, knowing Caleb is there to comfort him. It’s a nice thought.

He waits until Molly settles once more, another fifteen minutes perhaps, and then waits a bit longer after that. He watches as Molly’s face relaxes back into restful sleep until he realizes that his job is done. He douses his lights, turns his back toward Molly, and falls asleep.

(It’s a step, albeit a small one, in the right direction. Don’t worry, there’s still more to tell.)

The next day, he wakes up alone.

(I did say someone was going to die, right?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, it's been a while. Apologies. Numerous apologies.
> 
> TO be fair, i've been crazy super busy irl the past month. First exams, then moving back home for the first time in five years, and im now two weeks into my first real person job, and i start a second job soon as well, and i am fucking exhausted.
> 
> have some soft boys
> 
> enjoy


	3. Chapter 3

When boiling water meets frigid air, it freezes. However, with the water being so close to gas, it turns into little pellets of ice, floating in the air and turning it into a heavy, cold mist. In the mist it is difficult to see, breath even. It weighs heavy on you, forcing you to acknowledge it’s presence lest you get lost in it.

(Or is that the other thing?)

Caleb does not know what is wrong with Mollymauk. He had assumed they had a good thing between them, a sort of agreement perhaps that they had silently come to. Caleb had enjoyed it, whatever they had, though he found himself unable to describe it.

(He’s been in love before, he knows how to describe it, he’s just frustratingly bad at _acknowledging_ it.)

The party skirts around the edge of a dense forest, rather than going through it. He sits at the back of the cart, Nott curled into his side, with Frumpking in his lap. He absentmindedly pets his familiar’s head as the tabby watches Nott intently, looking on as his goblin friend plays with a golden coin, tossing it from hand-to-hand, and hiding it amongst her person with a careful flick of the wrist. Frumpkin is quite entranced with her, just as Caleb is entranced with a certain lavender-skinned tiefling, who's up at the front of the cart, reigns of the horses in hand. He can hear Mollymauk whistle some sort of jaunty tune, and he finds himself leaning in closer to hear the notes.

It’s beginning to turn into spring once more, the leaves beginning to bud, and the grass finally turning to green. Jester finds a patch of flowers on the road somewhere and braids them together into little crowns she surreptitiously places on everyone’s head. It is a good day to be out on the road, Caleb thinks, better than their previous days of travel, somehow. This kind of peace is not something he’s ever known, at least not since his life went up in flames ( _I’m sorry_ ) all those years ago.

They are interrupted by the near-silent sound of an arrow whistling through the air, followed by the sickening squelch of it piercing through skin and into Mollymauk’s left shoulder. He goes tumbling off the cart from the blow, the horses panicking at the sudden movement. Within seconds the rest of the Mighty Nein are called to action, weapons in hand and spells at the ready. They huddle around Molly as Jester gives him a quick heal and helps him to his feet.

The air is silent. There is no one in sight.

“Where’d it come from?” Molly asks, clutching his hand to his shoulder.

“Show yourself!” Fjord shouts at their abnormally quiet surroundings. A chill creeps into Caleb’s body, the air around them going cold and eerie. He can feel the aura of magic settle around them as their nice day quickly turns sour.

“Why don’t you come out and finish the job?” Molly continues to goad whoever’s attacking them, a hint of suggestion in his words.

Apparently it works, a second arrow comes from the trees around them, Beau catching it in her hand, stopping it from going any further.

“Found you, you fucks!” She hollers out, sprinting off into the woods. Everyone follows behind, only a couple steps behind her.

When Caleb passes the line of trees, everything becomes harder to see. He quickly loses track of everyone, dodging between tree trunks as he tries to spot their attackers. He holds a ball of fire ready on his shaking fingertips. He hears a cry from his left, and shifts to look in that direction, glancing around to see if he can see anything. He walks backward, jolting when his back hits a tree.

A bright light and a small explosion comes from behind him, he jolts and lets his fireball go in that direction.

“Hello?” He calls out, “Did I hit anything?”

Nothing replies. He hears a couple more shouts, a few groans perhaps, the sound of leaves rustling on the forest floor, or from the canopy above.

The sound of footsteps come running up behind him, and he turns to see Molly, both swords drawn and glowing. His original wound is still bleeding, there are a couple new cuts on his neck, and one on his cheek as well.

“Mollymauk,” Caleb sighs, rushing to meet him.

“Sh!” Molly puts his finger up to his lips, and Caleb stops in his tracks. Molly walks over to him, watching his step, until he’s right at Caleb’s shoulder, “They’re in the trees, and they’re quick too. Stay close.”

He conjures another wisp of fire to his fingertips, staying right on Molly’s shoulder as they continue their way through the forest. His entire body is tense and on edge, as he looks every which way for one of their attackers.

It lasts all of six seconds.

A cry, “Caleb, watch out!”

A groan as he’s shoved to the ground.

The soft whistling of arrows hitting their target.

The shifting of leaves as a body falls.

A plea for help, “Jester! Please, anyone!”

And only silence to answer.

 

 

He’s not dealing well with any of this.

He waited another five minutes for his friends to find him after they had hunted every one of their attackers and took them down. They found him sitting against a tree trunk, dazed as he stared into nothingness, Mollymauk’s head on his lap, arrows still stuck in his body. His hands shook with no place to go until Yasha tried to pick Molly up into her arms and they suddenly went to the silk of his coat, clutching at it like a child. It was Nott who pried them away, guiding him through the trees behind her and back to the cart.

He’s walking through fog, or perhaps a very cold mist.

He sits in the corner of the cart, legs curled up to his chest, silently shivering to himself. Jester has a diamond, a very expensive one, but she says she has to prepare before she can bring him back. She doesn’t want him to be scared, she says. He should feel like he’s waking up from a midsummer’s day nap, not…this.

She takes out the arrows and mends his coat, tries to clean out the blood stains to the best of her ability. She takes off his bloodied shirt and replaces it with one of Fjord’s, a little too big for him, but clean nonetheless.

She hasn’t done this before, so she makes it up as she goes along. She takes out his tapestry and lays him down on it, even though they all know he doesn’t worship or even care about the god it pays tribute too. She lights some of his incense, and places the burning bundles around his cold body, permeating the air with pleasant-smelling smoke.

“There,” Jester says, kneeling at Molly’s head. She grabs her holy symbol from her waist, weaving it’s chain through her fingers before she clasps the pendant between her palms, “Traveller, I hope you’re listening. Molly was hurt today, very badly, and now… well, he’s gone. But I know you can help me, you’ve helped me do so much before, and I know you--”

Her eyes go wide for a second before she gets up from her spot, going to dig through her backpack before she finds her sketchbook and rips a page out. She goes back to where she was, clutching the page in her hands.

“Molly… you’re one of my best friends. And I wanted to give you something, a present, I guess. I was sketching a few days ago, and I thought about your tattoos because they’re so pretty, and I guess I just started adding to them. So I just wanted to show them to you, because I think you should get more, and… well, you might like these. And so you should come back. ‘Cause I made them for you,” she places the sheet of paper on his chest as she rambles, nervously smoothing it out to show off what she’s drawn. The design is bright, coloured with Jester’s favourite inks. It’s obvious that she put a lot of work into it, and she’s proud of it too. She kneels back down and looks to the others.

“We need to convince him to come back, guys,” she explains as if it’s the most simple thing in the world as if she’s done this a dozen times before. She clasps her holy symbol once more, and goes back to her prayer, whispering under her breath.

It’s Yasha who goes next. She doesn’t say much as she grabs a book from among her person, binding worn and pages fraying at the edges. She seems to have a specific page in mind as she turns through the yellowed parchment. When she finally finds it, she pulls out a four-leaf clover, shrivelled and dried. She opens Molly’s hand and places it within, clutching his hand around it. The clover crumbles within his grasp.

“For good luck,” she explains simply.

“One more,” Jester murmurs.

The rest are silent. Curious glances pass between the others, wordless questions that ask who will be the next one to contribute to the ritual. Caleb mulls it over, trying to figure out what he would give up, what he would sacrifice to bring Mollymauk back. He assumes it must be something equal to what is returned, but what can he give that is equal to the cost of a person’s soul? His own life? His mind? His magic?

(If there was a way, he would.)

His breath catches in his throat.

Boiling water meets frigid air.

“I do not have much to give,” he says, all of the sudden, “despite all the money we make, I am still dirt poor. And I do not think you would enjoy many of things I already own.” He crawls over to Molly’s prone form, grabbing the hand Yasha had put the clover in. He threads their fingers together, “But I do have something to say… to you. Though only face to face. When you’re back. Then we’ll talk.”

He leaves it at that, looking up to Jester through his eyelashes. She nods at him and continues on.

It’s hard to describe what comes next. He’s sure he hears a second voice that joins in on her chanting, a man’s voice, one he’s sure he’s never heard before, but still seems vaguely familiar. The air grows hot and full of static, and every single hair on the skin of his arms stands at edge as Jester’s voice grows louder and louder.

In an instant, she goes silent.

And then five seconds later, a breath.

 

 

Jester’s completely tapped out afterwards, nearly fainting when she stands up, so they don’t wake Molly up. They place him in the cart and cover him in his tapestry and a couple extra blankets, placing his robe under his head as a pillow. Caleb stays next to him, eyes focused on the up-and-down movement of Molly’s chest as he breathes. There’s a lot going through his mind, a manic squall of thoughts and feelings and other things he cannot describe.

Emotions are hard. He’s doing his best, considering what he’s gone through in such short a time.

Molly shuffles in his sleep, and Caleb’s attention suddenly refocuses. His hand moves out from under the tapestry. It’s lying there, out in the open, just inviting Caleb to grab it.

So he does.

He swears he feels Molly squeeze back in his sleep, and some romantic part of him thinks that Molly must know he is here.

“We’re going to have a long talk, you and I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAANNDDDD its done
> 
> god, this is why i don't do multi-chaptered fics guys.... i just take too long. in the meantime ive added like... 2 fics to my WIP list so there's more to come.
> 
> I'll also be joining in the CR Relationships Week fun, the pairings i pulled are [here](http://cordsycords.tumblr.com/post/174581919428/critical-role-relationships-week) if anyone is interested. I'm writing all those a couple of weeks in advance, so all the fics will be posted when they are supposed to be, at least I hope they will. I'm done two, so that's a good sign.

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, another work. Hopefully, one that actually gets updated (sorry other unfinished works) but this one is short, so that's good, right?
> 
> Anyways, this is Molly's chapter, Caleb's should be the next one, and there should be another one after that which ties everything together (i have a plan guys, a plan means that shit's gonna get done).
> 
> Comments + kudos are the pastries to my Jester.
> 
> \- Cords


End file.
